Page 62 of Heimlock
Successfully wrapping my thighs around his neck.
Adding fire to my palm, I slam it over his open mouth and pour fire down his throat. It won’t truly hurt him; I know that. But it’ll make it hard for him to breathe.
Trinte whips his torso forward, but unlike with Bael, I’m expecting it. His attempts to dislodge me failed. I laugh maniacally.
The laughter is cut off as hands the size of dinner plates wrap around my neck. They squeeze; the electricity begins. Blinding, white hot pain convulses my body. He took me by surprise the first time, but this round, I command my muscles to tighten further, using the electricity to my advantage. Squeezing my eyes shut, I swear a tooth cracks from how tightly I grit my teeth. Trinte’s still trying to remove me, but his movements are turning sluggish. The crowd is screaming in a way I’ve never heard before, but it’s far away. Trinte’s gasping breaths are the only thing I’m focused on.
The electricity falters, as does my eyesight. Everything begins to darken. An earthquake jolts my body. Not an earthquake — Trinte falling onto his knees. Still, I hold his neck between my thighs, just in case it’s a trick.
But my lungs scream and every vein burns from the lack of air. We’re literally killing one another. Maybe that’s okay. Dying doesn’t scare me, and something tells me it doesn’t scare him either.
My fire fails at the same time the electrocution stops.
Both of us fall onto the sand. Somewhere, a bell rings. Trinte’s movements still, and my mind floats away into oblivion.
25
The moment the world returns into focus, I know I’m fucked. She won fair and square. When my eyes open, I see Coach leaning over, examining me.
“He’s awake,” he tells someone, grinning. What in the Hells is he smiling about?
Groaning, I try to sit up. Everything throbs. The crowd can’t stop screaming my name and Kyrielle’s. If I were them, I’d be cheering too. What she and I just did was … unique.
That thought brings awareness to the bareness of my neck. No thick thighs squeezing the life out of me. I reach up, but she isn’t there anymore. Either fear or excitement has me looking around — I won’t admit to either.
“Where is she?” I ask, trying to sit up again.
Coach crouches next to me, supporting my torso. A headache like no other pounds inside my skull.
“Behind you,” Coach says quietly.
Everything swims when I jerk my head to find her. Wincing, I lift a hand to my forehead as I search for the color orange.
She’s sitting on her heels, grinning at a female fighter giving her water. Bruises are forming over her neck; shame overtakes the relief oft seeing her alive. I didn’t kill her.
The fact that I could’ve is terrifying. Each time I purposefully hurt her, a tiny part of my soul wept. Even when I punched her in the face, I was forced to halve the power so I didn’t shatter her skull.
Other than the bruises and raw skin, she looks fine. When her gaze connects with mine, Kyrielle flashes a smug grin.
Glaring at her, I ask Coach, “Who won?”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “It was a damn tie. You both passed out at the same time.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I growl. Renewed anger and fear dulls my pain.
“Afraid not.” He actually sounds like he regrets the truth. “I’ve already had requests for a rematch. That was incredibly impressive.”
“Don’t bet on it,” I grumble, pushing myself to stand. The seats are still full of excited onlookers, pointing and waving when they catch my eye. I ignore them, fully turning toward the bane of my existence.
I’ve never seen anyone so fucking pleased with themselves. Five questions. She gets to ask me five questions.
But also … she now has to submit.
This realization must show on my expression because the smug smirk fades. We’re both going to collect our prizes.
Coach claps me on the shoulder, unaware of the standoff. “You good to get home?”
A buzzing lights up my skin as I continue to stare at her. “I’m good.” Pointing a finger at the tangerine menace that haunts my dreams, I crook it, signalling for her to get that perky ass off the ground and to follow me.
